


Bringing Back Christmas Cheer

by SassmasterMaxie



Series: Christmas Advent 2017 Drabbles [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: AU where Maxie and Maxwell are together, M/M, alternalte canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-07 08:10:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassmasterMaxie/pseuds/SassmasterMaxie
Summary: Maxie helps Maxwell enjoy Christmas again...





	Bringing Back Christmas Cheer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loupgaros](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Loupgaros).



Maxwell looked out of the window of his house in Megaton. Thick white snow blanketed the entire town, and many houses had crudely made decorations hanging up. He sighed heavily and shook his head as he sat back down, sipping from a glass of whiskey that he’d poured for himself. The upcoming festive season seemed to have everyone else in its hold… but not him.

Meanwhile, Maxie was busy in the little kitchen, making them a meal of stew. Something to warm them up during the bitter winter over the Capital Wasteland. But he stopped briefly when he felt Maxwell’s hand on his shoulder, looking over. “What’s up?”

“Everyone else is festive. But not me.” Maxwell sounded rather bitter. “I was forced to participate back in the Vault, but now… I don’t ever want to hear of it ever again.” He definitely had a strong dose of cynicism there. “Just wish I could get away from all of this.”

Maxie frowned briefly, finishing the stew and dishing it out into two bowls, thinking over what Maxwell was saying. Being forced to partake in festivities was never fun, but maybe… “Well… maybe we could make our own festivities? If you wanted to, of course. I ain’t gonna force it on you.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know.” Maxwell took his food and went to eat. This was odd for him. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with Christmas since he’d left the vault, much less so after his father had been killed in front of him in cold blood. But at the same time he felt a bit bad for Maxie. Perhaps he wanted to celebrate, yet his own bitter cynicism surrounding the whole affair was not helping matters.

Maxie had sat opposite, eating his own bowl of stew. “Like I said. Ain’t gonna force it.” He was hoping that Maxwell would agree to it. After all, the few vague pre-war memories he had of Christmas were pleasant enough. Just him, his dad, his cat and close family and friends.

For a while Maxwell was silent, eating his food while he thought over the proposal. Surely it couldn’t be any worse than those tedious celebrations in the Vault, right? Tedious… yet very short. According to the Overseer, days off were not to be had and everyone had to work regardless. That and he was sure that the Overseer absolutely hated him. The man had never been keen on him or his father for that matter.

“Hey, Maxwell?” Maxie looked over then. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just… thinking this over. Christmas in Vault 101 was short-lived. Only a few hours if that. The Overseer was insistent that we worked as often as possible but he did allow us some time off. Not that it mattered much. Bastard hated my guts anyway.” Maxwell sighed heavily. “Honestly, it just… Ugh. Those days were terrible. That, and after leaving the Vault, there was never enough food for a Christmas meal anyway.”

Maxie pondered over what he was saying, tilting his head. “Wow. I know you’ve said the Overseer was a dick but fuck… he really was a major dick. If you do decide you wanna do a celebration, I ain’t gonna cut it short after a few hours. And I’ll make sure that there’s plenty of food. Don’t you worry about that.”

Despite the lingering cynicism, Maxwell smiled a little. “If you’d be cooking the food, it’ll be amazing.” A pause. “Huh. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

“And it’ll just be us. No asshole Overseer to tell us what to do. We can make this entirely our own and it’s gonna be great.”

Maxwell nodded. “Alright,” he said with some minor skepticism, “I’ll humour you. I’ll let you make a celebration for us. It might actually turn out good for once.”

Maxie had been hoping that he would agree. And he was glad to hear that answer. Though there was some pressure. If Maxwell was giving this a chance, it had better be a good one! Treat it like it’s the only chance you have, he told himself.

Over the next week he was gathering various food items that came in on the trading caravans, making sure that there would be plenty of food to eat. He’d put a small gift together. Even Maxwell was putting a little effort himself. Christmas was about gifts, right? He’d made a small gift and was hoping it would at least be sufficient.

By the time Christmas day rolled around, the little house was filled with the delightful smells of cooking food. Maxie had started early. He was ensuring that everything would be cooked and that they’d have enough for at least two meals today.

Maxwell walked down the small flight of stairs, smiling a little when he smelled the food. “That smells delicious.”

“Hoping it tastes good too.” Maxie stepped back from the stove and moved to grab a small bag from one of the lockers, holding it out to Maxwell. “Here. It’s just a little something that I hope you’ll like.”

Maxwell was silent as he opened the bag, pulling out a tin of Mentats and what looked like a heavily modified 10mm pistol. He pocketed the tin of Mentats before testing the gun in his hand. The grip was comfortable and the weight was balanced just right. And on closer inspection, he noticed that the side of the barrel had an engraving of a crow in flight.

“It’s only small, but I hope it’ll—”

Maxwell cut him off. “No, it’s perfect. I love it.” He found his hip holster and placed the gun inside, patting it gently. “I… thank you.” Then he looked down rather sheepishly. “Kinda makes what I was planning to give you seem rather small in comparison…”

“That don’t matter. It’s the thought that counts.” Maxie smiled as he spoke. “Can I see?”

“It’s only a little carving…” Maxwell reached into his pocket and handed over a small but very detailed wooden Deathclaw carving. The carving even had little wings on its back. “Just a little something.”

“Y'know what? This is absolutely wonderful and I love it.” Maxie smiled broadly. “You spent time making this for me and it’s perfect.” He hugged Maxwell close and planted a little kiss on his cheek. “Thank you so much.”

Maxwell felt himself going rather red. “I figured it’d be something good. But you liked so that’s the main thing.”

“Exactly. Anyway, I hope you’re hungry. I’ve got Brahmin steak and vegetables for now, then we got a giant rack of Yao Guai ribs for dinner…”


End file.
